Rejecting The Pack: I Need One Mate

The noise of the hunting party faded behind them as they walked down the main path. Armond's hard features finally relaxed, the tension leaving his jaw.

Evan was still fuming. He kicked a stone hard, sending it skittering into the bushes. "I hate him," Evan muttered. "He always acts like he owns you."

Kala chuckled. She reached out and ruffled Evan's messy hair, messing it up even more. "You were very brave just now," she praised. "Like a real warrior."

Evan's pout vanished instantly. He puffed out his chest, and a fluffy tail popped out from under his shirt, wagging proudly behind him.

A booming voice echoed from up ahead. "Armond! Little Kala!"

Ridge Mason was walking toward them. He was a towering warrior who had just finished his patrol shift. He had a broad, easy smile on his face.

Ridge's eyes swept over Kala, pausing for a moment of obvious appreciation. "Looking more beautiful every day, Kala!" he laughed, his voice carrying no malice, only cheerful boldness. "No wonder the males are lining up to be your mates!"

He turned his grin on Armond. "Hey, Armond! When are you going to pick a few strong ones for her? You can't keep her locked up forever!"

The air stopped moving.

Armond stopped walking. The warmth that had just returned to his face vanished, replaced by a mask of absolute, chilling fury. His eyes became blades of ice, pinning Ridge to the spot.

A suffocating wave of pure, heavy Alpha pressure erupted from Armond, pressing down like an invisible boulder. He didn't unleash his killing intent this time, but the sheer weight of his aura was enough to choke the air out of the surrounding space.

Ridge's smile froze. Sweat poured down his temples, soaking his collar in seconds. His legs began to shake, his knees threatening to buckle. He had touched the most sensitive nerve of the Padilla family. Everyone in the pack knew Armond was intensely protective of his daughter, but no one realized that even a harmless, well-meaning joke could ignite such a terrifying reaction from the lion.

Armond took a step forward. His voice was a low, deadly rumble that sounded like it came from the depths of a grave. "Shut your mouth."

"My daughter," Armond growled, "does not need any filthy male stink on her."

Armond's fist rose. A faint red glow began to pulse around his knuckles-the sign of his spatial ability charging up. He was about to lose control.

Kala moved. She didn't try to grab his arm; she jumped onto his back. She wrapped her arms tightly around his thick neck, pressing her cheek against his ear.

"I'm hungry," Kala whined, her voice dripping with honeyed sweetness. "I want the roasted meat only you can make. Please, Father? I'm starving."

The red glow around Armond's fist flickered and died. The scent of his daughter-mint and safety-and the feeling of her soft arms around him acted like a bucket of water on the fire of his rage.

He slowly lowered his fist. He threw one last, murderous glare at Ridge. It was a look that promised a slow death if they ever crossed paths again.

Ridge scrambled away, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush to escape.

Armond turned his head, his face transforming instantly. He smiled warmly at Kala, patting her hands where they clasped his shoulder. "Of course, my little Mender. Let's go home right now."

Evan stared at his father, his jaw hanging open. He couldn't believe the speed of the change. One second a monster, the next a doting father.

They walked the rest of the way in peace. Armond was already mentally executing every male who had ever looked at Kala.

They rounded the final bend. Their large, two-story cabin came into view. Warm light glowed from the windows.

Kala's smile vanished.

Armond let out a low, dangerous growl from his throat. Beside him, Evan didn't hesitate this time. He yanked the bone knife from his belt, the blade glinting in the moonlight.

Standing in the shadows of their front porch was a tall figure.

Caleb Quinn stood there, holding a bouquet of rare, glowing medicinal herbs. He was waiting for them, silent and uninvited, like a ghost that refused to be exorcised.